


Orange Like the Fruity Kind

by RiaTheDreamer



Series: S15 Missing Scenes [7]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Friendship, Light Angst, M/M, Missing Scene, Misunderstandings, The Reds and Blues are finally told about Biff, implied grimmons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 17:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12845754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiaTheDreamer/pseuds/RiaTheDreamer
Summary: “Tucker, the Blues and Reds don’t have an orange doubleganger.”It didn’t stop him from protesting again. “And isn’t that just a bit too convenient?”“He’s dead,” Dylan then told the room, voice hard as she delivered the facts.It was Jax who broke the stunned silence that followed. “Dun, dun, dun.”





	Orange Like the Fruity Kind

“We should make a plan,” Carolina said and lifted her head weakly. They had propped her up against the wall while they travelled across space, and they’d all taken the moment to rest before what was going to be the final battle.

Dylan said she’d bring them to Earth as soon as possible, but as much they wanted to stop Temple, the trip itself was a needed chance to just sit down and breathe.

“Easy,” Tucker said, with a snarl still lingering in his voice. “Punch Temple’s stupid face until he chokes on his own teeth.”

After a soft sigh, Carolina muttered, “That’s an image.” She crossed her legs again, trying to get in a more comfortable position. “Well, before you can get to play dentist, we need to get through his army. And we are clearly outnumbered.”

All the Reds and Blues had gathered in the small room, with the two reporters staying in the cockpit. As the Reds kept to one corner and the Blues in the other, out of pure habit, it became painfully obvious that they were lacking a member. There was still dried blood on Tucker’s gloves.

“So do we sneak past them?” Simmons asked. “Or do we have a shoot off? Because I just want to point out that we’ve already had one of those, and it didn’t really go well.”

“They could have been preparing for us,” Carolina suggested.

“So what?” Tucker had never sat down since the ship took off, but was instead constantly pacing back and forth. “We just go up and knock on their door and ask them if they’re ready for a visit?”

“Or maybe they have a door bell! We are back on Earth now, remember.” Donut sounded delighted at the thought. “They have some standards we’ve been stripped from for too long.”

Caboose shook his head. “Door bells are no fun. You can’t make jokes with them.”

That just earned him a snort from Tucker. “Yeah, like this situation was laughable to begin with.”

“Maybe we should try with the stealthy option this time,” Simmons said while carefully eying Tucker, unsure if his suggestion could be seen as in insult.

“We could make a distraction,” Grif suggested, with that uncharacteristic eagerness back in his voice. He almost sounded excited about the idea. “I could do that. _I did that_. Locus said it was risky but I said it could work and then he did that low growl thing but it sounded more like a mutter, so he agreed when I volunteered-“

Tucker froze with one leg raised, prepared for the next step. He turned his head to stare at the orange soldier. “Wait, say that again.”

The orange helmet tilted upwards. “Uhm… Locus growled but not really?”

“No, you did _what_?”

“Volunteered-“

Tucker had placed himself right in front of him, hands still clenched into fists. “And what are you doing right now?”

“Volunteering?” Grif sounded more confused than the rest of the puzzled room felt.

Simmons shifted uncomfortably, unsure of where the conversation was going. But judging from the previous events of the day, it would probably not be anything good due to their shitty luck. “Tucker, what are you-“

Tucker did not give him the time to finish his question before he rushed forward, sending Grif to the floor with a punch to the helmet. “Oomph!” The orange soldier continued to groan as his arm was forced behind his back, slowly being pulled more and more upwards to immobilize him in a painful position. “What the fuck, dude?!” he asked, visor pressed against the floor.

“Tucker!” Carolina tried to push herself up, but ended up falling back to rest against the wall.

“Are we making a cuddle pile?” Caboose asked, and the rest of the room was alert now; understanding the situation needed some sort of reaction from them, though they were not sure just what that reaction should be.

Tucker kept his hold on the orange soldier to keep him down, adding more pressure to the back. “Since when does Grif volunteer?” he asked the others.

There was a moment of stunned silence.

“You mean besides volunteering to taste all Red Team’s homecooked meals to make sure no diabolical blue schemes have poisoned it?” Sarge huffed. “Never.”

Tucker nodded grimly. “And what was the first thing _Grif_ did when Temple brought him in?”

“Yell ‘ _Simmons’_!” Caboose replied helpfully.

“Apologize,” Simmons said numbly, ignoring Caboose’s cheerful answer.

Tucker continued, “And since when does Grif say sorry? As in not being ironic.”

All visors turned towards the orange soldier squirming on the floor.

“Holy shit,” Simmons unconsciously whispered, and everyone chose the ignore the obvious hurt in his voice.

“Wait, guys, I’m not-“ He was cut off when Tucker continued to pull his arm closer to his neck, causing him to yelp in pain.

Tucker leaned closer to his helmet to growl triumphantly, “And of course they’d never introduce us to their Grif-“

“-with two F’s-“ Caboose said to show off his knowledge.

“-if they were going to use him as a spy!” Tucker looked down at his prisoner. “Hah, they even got his shade of orange wrong.”

“If you call me fucking yellow-“

“That’s why he wanted all of us to board the ship!” Tucker readjusted his grip to make sure he would not get away and cause even more hurt. He was quiet for a brief moment as he bitterly considered just how badly they had all been manipulated. “So he could lure us into an ambush!”

“Guys, you wouldn’t-“ The orange soldier fell quiet in defeat when Sarge cocked his shotgun.

Carolina finally managed to find the strength to sit up properly, and she reached out for the Blue as she warned him, “Tucker, don’t do anything drastic.”

“The fuck I won’t!” he hissed back. “Those fuckers tried to kill us – and they’ve gotten a little too close for my taste.” As he fell quiet, it was no secret that they were all thinking of Wash and his still unknown condition. “You really think they wouldn’t try to plant a spy with us?”

“But he rescued us!” Carolina argued back.

“To earn our trust! Temple pulled the same trick, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, he was all about saving you guys from the UNSC!” Donut joined the conversation. “So he could kill you himself… Oh.”

Simmons kept moving his glance from Tucker to the orange soldier and back to Tucker again. When he tried to argue, he was sputtering, trying to find the right words, “But him – I – We – We talked!”

Behind him, Donut clasped his hands together in excitement. “Did you two finally make up?” he squealed, sounding delight.

“What? No! Not like that!” Simmons said, finally capable of putting a sentence together.

“Then what did you talk about?”

“Nothing,” Simmons replied, and crossed his arms like a scowling child.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” the orange soldier exclaimed in a pant. “Arm breaking over here, just in case you didn’t notice.”

“He just…” Simmons moved his head to stare at the wall rather than the squirming soldier. “…said he was sorry for leaving.”

Sarge let out a considering grunt. “Sounds rather cheesy. Was there no sarcasm? No disrespect or rolling eyes or lack of manners?”

“No.” Simmons hesitated for a moment before regretting his answer. “Well, he said he hated you guys, but then he got bored so he came back so we could hate him. That proves he’s Grif, right? Like, only Grif would know that.”

“Really?” Tucker snorted, not hiding his disbelief the slightest. “Hatred and boredom and then a sudden change of heart? Smells fishy.”

Caboose nodded. “Like Temple’s breakfast.”

“How else would he know it?” Simmons pressed on, sounding more hopeful than sure of his statement.

“Uhm, maybe because you have been wailing about Grif non-stop since he left?” Tucker replied in a tone that suggested he was rolling his eyes.

While Simmons made a squeaky-toy sound, the orange soldier lifted his head to stare at him. “You have?” he asked in an uncharacteristic hopeful voice.

“ _No_! Pfft. Why would I have done that? That’s… totally not something I would have done. I may have mentioned his name a few times…”

“And how he said he hated us and how he quit and how you wanted him back,” Tucker continued for him, snorting. “See, they just gave you what you wanted so they could trick us. Like we’d be that stupid.”

Simmons then turned to Tucker, “Didn’t they give you a video game so you’d-“

“But I’m me!” the trapped soldier cried, voice going squeaky with desperation.

Tucker pushed his head against the floor again. “Everyone would say that!”

“I’d say that,” Caboose said. “Because I am me.”

“C’mon, guys.” Barely able to move, the orange soldier gulped loudly. “I know I fucked up but-“

“Yeah, you fucked up,” Tucker gloated. “You totally didn’t play the role right.”

Sarge crossed his arms in a thoughtful manner. “Now when you mentioned it, I haven’t seen this orange dirtbag almost choke himself to death on snackcakes yet.”

“Or take a nap,” Donut said, head tilted.

Tucker added to the amount of proof, “Or complain about having to do something.”

“But…” Simmons sounded like he was close to having a mental breakdown. He’d had quite a few of these since Grif had quit. “How would he know us so well?”

“Temple had info on us. That’s how he pulled off all that manipulation crap. Plus Doc told him all about what happened in Blood Gulch. First time someone ever cared about what Doc has to say…”

“I can prove I’m me!”

Tucker continued to twist his arm. “Just admit it – you came here because Temple sent you!”

“No, I came because you guys needed a rescue! Just ask Locus, I’m his partner and we came together to-“

“ _Right_. Let’s ask Locus. The mercenary who tried to kill us.”

“And who saved us,” Carolina said firmly with a vivid memory of being rescued from certain death.

Tucker exhaled, loosening his grip for a moment. “Okay, but… If this isn’t their orange guy, then where the fuck is he?”

The ship’s door suddenly opened, revealing the two reporters that had finally been alerted by the chaos.

“What is happening in here?” Dylan demanded to know with Jax right behind her.

Tucker looked up at them without letting go of his prisoner. “We caught a spy, that’s what happening.”

Dylan looked at the orange soldier and then at Tucker who was still proudly holding him, like a cat bringing its owner a dead mouse. “I’m not sure I understand,” she finally said.

“This isn’t Grif,” Tucker said and pointed at the soldier who was looking very much like Grif. “It’s just another stupid doubleganger.”

“Arm. _Hurts_.”

Dylan remained remarkably calm as she told him, “Tucker, that’s Grif.”

“Uhm, no, it isn’t! Look!”

“I am looking at Grif,” Dylan said. “And you should probably release him.”

Grif raised his head from the floor, as if about to say something-

“Why would Grif be here?” Tucker asked, the tone in his voice indicating that such a thing would be absolutely crazy and illogical.

Grif fell quiet before even saying something, and he slowly lowered his head again.

“Donut, you’re the color expert,” Tucker suddenly declared.

That earned him a protesting “Uhm-“ from Simmons which he ignored.

“Don’t you think he looks just a little bit yellow?”

“Oh my god,” Grif groaned and slammed his visor against the floor – by his own will this time. “I am orange-“

“Like the fruity kind,” Caboose said.

“No-“

“So you admit it?”

Dylan looked like she was about to tear the Blue off him, but she then breathed in deeply and said sternly, “Tucker, the Blues and Reds don’t have an orange doubleganger.”

It didn’t stop him from protesting again. “And isn’t that just a bit too convenient?”

“He’s dead,” Dylan then told the room, voice hard as she delivered the facts.

It was Jax who broke the stunned silence that followed. “Dun, dun, dun.”

“Grif?” Simmons whispered, obviously horrified as he tried to understand just who they had to mourn.

“No, Biff. Their Grif,” Dylan explained, and that caused the maroon soldier to let out a relieved sigh. She turned towards Tucker. “So you can let go of him.”

“Oh.” He immediately scrambled off the orange soldier, coughing awkwardly before offering him a hand as he slowly struggled to get up. “Sorry, dude.”

Grif accepted the outstretched hand. “Oooww… Hey, when I told you we need you to fight against the bad guys, I was kinda urging you to fight against the, well, _bad guys_.”

“So what’s with the whole volunteering-thing? It’s kinda creepy.”

“Just trying out a new style, I guess.”

Simmons had been about to take a step towards Grif but then froze with his leg in the air, turning around to focus on Dylan instead. “Wait, what happened to their Grif?”

“And why haven’t we been told of any of this?” Donut tsked, obviously dissatisfied. “I swear, gossip magazines are quicker than the actual news these days.”

Dylan smacked her lips. “Okay, I will take that as an insult.”

“When did you learn about this?” Tucker asked, brushing some dust off his gloves as he tried to move past the whole attacking-a-teammate ordeal.

Dylan sighed, having recovered from the insult, and began to finally tell the story. “When Temple had us captured, he found the time to tell us his real motivation behind all this.”

“And he had the perfect setting,” Jax said. “Evil monologue, dim lights, malicious plot holes-“

“Temple and Biff were friends,” she cut him off. “Best friends. From childhood. When they enlisted in the army, the UNSC placed them on opposite teams and-“

Simmons asked, a frown evident in the tone of his voice. “Temple killed his best friend?”

“No. Freelancers were sent into the gulch as a part of their training and-“

“It’s always the Freelancers,” Simmons muttered under his breath, almost sadly.

Either Dylan didn’t hear him, or she pretended not to. “He was, supposedly, dragged into fight against his will. When the Freelancers turned more aggressive, he came in the way. He was killed.”

“Which Freelancers…?” Simmons asked, and all heads turned towards Carolina who had been sitting quietly in the corner during the conversation.

“Oh, c’mon!” Tucker groaned at the unspoken answer.

Carolina’s hands turned into fists on top of her knees. “I don’t… I don’t recall… _Oh no_.”

“So you did kill him?” Simmons asked after hearing her whisper.

“I made a lot of mistakes back then,” Carolina told the room, her voice sounding strained. “I don’t deny that.”

“I know someone so disturbingly Grif-like ought to get your dirtbag-killing instinct up and awake, but he could at least have been a Blue!” Sarge told her, and she lowered her head as the memories were brought up.

Donut snapped his fingers as the realization set in. “So that’s why Temple hates Freelancers! It’s almost the kindest friendly gesture – if you see apart from the whole murder spree. That was kind of drastic.”

“Did Temple say anything?” Dylan asked, taking a step towards the orange soldier who was still sitting on the floor. “Grif?”

When she said his name, he finally reacted to the question. He raised his head as he said, “Uhm, no? I mean, he called me stupid but isn’t that just the standard villain greeting? Or just greeting in general?”

“The Blues and Red became evil… because their Grif died?” Simmons said, almost thoughtfully. Instinctively, he’d moved closer to his orange teammate, but no one commented on it.

“He literally became a terrorist to avenge him?” Tucker said. “That’s setting a new best friend standard.”

Caboose huffed loudly. “But did he built him a new body – no, I don’t think so.”

“I should have remembered,” Carolina said bitterly and slammed a weak fist against the floor to show her regret.

Donut put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Well, we turned out to be quite a lot of Simulation Troopers-“

“It doesn’t matter,” Carolina cut off. “I saw them – _you_ – as nothing. And he died because of me.” Her fists were shaking “I could at least have remembered,” she said again, voice low.

The room was quiet for a while, people shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another. Grif was looking at the floor, and Simmons was trying not to look at Grif.

“At least now we know why Temple is a crazy bastard,” Tucker said as he looked at his own hands. “Not that it makes up for what he’s done.”

“It’s sad to lose your best friend,” Caboose said and no one could argue against that truth.

**Author's Note:**

> I know you are all asking: why didn’t they just take off his helmet? Because it’s RvB. What did you expect?
> 
> Inspired by a post by abitofafatass on tumblr about the others getting suspicious of Grif because of his whole change of behavior. Check it out here: http://abitofafatass.tumblr.com/post/167348206117/you-know-what-i-just-thought-of-everyone
> 
> I might first be able to post new chapters next week, since I am moving out this Friday. Gonna be so busy.
> 
> Anyway, this was a quick little missing scene, since I still can’t believe they weren’t told about Biff.


End file.
